you wake up in ponte city, johannesburg and sit down to write

>I woke up in ponte city, johannesburg and sat down to write my first paragraph

>>9360452
It would be a good way to write a novel structured like the divine comedy

>oh no a bunch of feral niggers are coming to kill me, maybe apartheid wasn't such a bad idea after all

>>9360452
>I shit down the hole in ponte city, johannesburg and sat down to write my first paragraph.

>>9360452
>The empty cylinder reminded me of OP's mother and her cavernous den of shame.

>>9360452
"The only way up is down and out."

Being a privileged white man, I am clearly at no unusual risk right now. I'll walk merrily to the door and off home. Doubtless I won't be impeded..

>>9362096
Not in Berea/Hillbrow you won't. Don't worry about your white privilege here.

Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog, Dr Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.

>I can hear the rabid nigger-monkeys beating upon my door once more. Are they still as of yet unable to figure that I am not without ammunition? The next incursion through my front door will be met with yet another barrage of hell-fire to which invariably follows the retreat to their detestable, scum-filled holes lower in the tower. I know niggers are vastly inferior intellectually to the white man, but even the dumbest of animals learns to give whatever bearer of pain they have stumbled upon a wide berth; but they still come. Can a certain dumbness beyond base instinct be ascribed to them? Or is it just sheer determination to assail my being, rob me of my worldly possessions, and impregnate my white wife and daughter?

>boy I wish I weren't white right about now

>>9362157
In South Africa you also need to be the right kind of black. I'd rather be white during xenophobic hysteria.

>I open my eyes. A room slowly comes into view through the hazy air. I'm aware of the hard floor I'm laying on. It smells of weed and liquor and chemicals. I'm wearing my clothes but my phone is gone and my wallet is gone and my shirt is stained with blood. It's not my blood. I sit up. Where am I? Outside I can faintly hear chanting in Arabic and the sounds of hip-hop, but I can't make out the words. Venturing towards the door I put my ear to it and listen out. Nothing there. I open it slowly. Nothing there. I'm in a hallway now and there are people around. Each one looks the same, the same black face, the same dark eyes, the same sinister scowl. They ignore me. I walk endlessly down the hallway and come to a window and feel the cold sun on my face. Before me are endless windows arranged in panopticon. They stretch infinitely below me and above me. If I can just get to the bottom. I find a flight of stairs. Floor 43. Floor 42. Floor 6. Floor 43. I find the window. it's the same window. I'm going in circles somehow. I cannot escape. A dark face looks at me and smirks. It makes some clicking noises and raises its hands. It begins making shapes with its hands. The number 2. Then the number 0. 1. 8. And the letters H. And N. Y. I realize I'm in Sweden.

>>9362229
If you are going to try and be funny, you have to already ve funny.

>>9360452
MELANIN